


Talking in Code.

by Reene_Lou



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reene_Lou/pseuds/Reene_Lou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the days before The Reichenbach Fall...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking in Code.

**Author's Note:**

> Eeep! This is my first smutty type fic please be kind and review I'd really rather know if it's awful…  
> As always thanks for reading my dears!
> 
> Edit: I've kinda beta'd this myself... So bear with me! Also if you're feeling in the generous kind of mood you're more than welcome to offer your services as Beta :) I will of course lavish you with attention and love and virtual hugs.
> 
>  
> 
> I like to post my fics on [tumblr](http://captainsourwolfandadderallboy.tumblr.com/) too so stop by and say hello C:

Sherlock stood in the doorway to John's room.

John lay on the bed covered from the waist down by the thin sheets. His tan was much faded now, but Sherlock could still see the minute differences between the golden skin on the nape of his neck and the skin going down into the creamy white expanse that was his back.

Earlier this evening he'd been visited by James Moriary, a visit which had contained a thinly veiled threat and an invitation to play. Mycrofts assurances that Moriarty would be captured soon meant nothing to him. He knew after the affair with The Tower of London, Pentonville Prison and the Bank of England, that Moriarty was working on a level higher than even Mycroft knew how to match.

He stood watching, the room illuminated by the light from the doorway.

He had taken to watching John whilst he slept since day one really; of course it was by sheer accident. Usually it was at the kitchen table or in his chair as they poured over cases late into the night. Sherlock would suddenly become aware of this silence, which wasn't really a silence but more of a change in the atmosphere. He'd peer over the top of his book or microscope and find John slouched down his jumper rucked up, showing the barest hint of stomach, his laptop still whirring and making gentle noises.

"Sherlock…?" John stirs his hand reaching up to shield his eyes from the glare of the light falling on his face "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing is wrong" he falters "I just, I wanted to make sure you were still here"

The corners of John's mouth curl up into a small sleepy smile as his eyes close and he relaxes back into the pillow "Where else would I be?"

"I wanted to be sure you were safe" Sherlock's voice sounds so quiet, so small that John opens his eyes again to look at him. He sits up on the bed silently taking Sherlock in, the open collar of his crumpled mess of a shirt and the look weariness that sat upon his features.

"You haven't slept" It wasn't a question but a statement. Maybe a stupid one but John's still half dazed from sleep and can think of nothing better to say.

Silence falls heavy between them.

Sherlock stands there mute in the doorway, less than a foot from the end of the bed and what seems like an eternity passes. Then John’s up fumbling the bed sheets off of his legs and feet and standing in front of Sherlock. John’s hand reaches up to touch his shoulder and Sherlock's reaches up to meet it.  They stand there in silence grasping each other's hand. John’s eyes lock onto Sherlock's as he places his other hand upon his chest feeling his heart beat growing steadily faster.

Had it been another night this would have been it over, with Sherlock's mumbled apologies, him backing away and making excuses. But tonight, with the game still unfolding and uncertainty ahead he knows this is it, this is where he wants to be. Nothing else will quell the voices in his head they scream at him  _"Take your chance"_ the morning feels like an eternity away as he leans down and places the most hesitant kiss upon John's lips.

Silence still as they stand there lips still touching, hands still holding. Sherlock can almost hear John's heartbeat thumping away in the darkness, he starts to pull away just as John's hand cups the back of his head and his lips move to press more firmly against his.

Neither of them said a word as John stumbled backwards, his lips still pressed to Sherlock's pulling him gently backwards and onto the bed, both too frightened to disturb the unspoken agreement that seemed to have fallen between them.

John lays across the bed his hands at his sides, Sherlock on top of him their bodies flush, their eyes locked. He reaches his hands up and putting them on Sherlock's waist, he slides them up ever so slowly pushing the shirt up with them. His movements soft and delicate as if he might wake from this dream and find his arms empty.

His fingers graze the underside of Sherlock's arms as he pulls the shirt up and over his head. Sherlock's bare chest falls to meet his own as he lifts his arms to allow John to carry on stripping him. John holds it in his hands momentarily then releases it to the floor.

His hands come back up to clasp Sherlock's head and bring him back into the kiss, it's soft and gentle and so impossibly sweet his heart aches and it feels like they're melting into each other.

And suddenly the clothes that still separate them seem unbearable. Sherlock makes no move to resist as John's hands grapple with his belt buckle, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, his hands sliding over the curve of his arse. He pushes them as far as the height difference will allow and lets Sherlock lift his hips to put his feet on the floor as he steps out of them. He pulls John’s pajama shorts down at the same time taking them off and they join growing pile of clothes on the floor.

His hips crash down against John's, their bodies joining together his lips kiss the side of John's cheek and he slowly moves his mouth down to taste the skin of his neck, the soft moans escaping from John's mouth are encouragement enough as he brushes a thumb against a nipple and rolls his hips against John's.

They move delicately.

Their bodies in synch their movements slow and languid. It feels as if they were in endless space. Time seemed to stand still in that moment as they explored each other's bodies.

John held Sherlock as he moved the rolling of his hips as he thrust deeper; his eyes fill with lust as he gazes upon Sherlock's. He pushes the damp curls off of his forehead and pulls him closer to feel his mouth against his.

Their breaths mix, the exchange of carbon dioxide making him dizzy and setting goose bumps along his body. There are no words, nothing between them just the exchange of air, ragged breaths; the moaning sighs of two people together at last.

Coming together and resolving the tension that had hung heavy between them since the first moment they met.

 

* * *

John's head upon his chest as he wakes tells him the memories are real. The aches in his muscles tell him the memories are real. This feeling of contentment tells him this is real and for a while he thinks he might just survive this game. 

 


End file.
